What do you think of playing a game on the Moor? Does hide and seek sound fun? Nice, wholesome fun on a summer’s day sounds good to me. The following piece of erotic fiction is set in an established, consenting D/s relationship.
“Come on” you holler from the car, engine running. Clearly eager to get on the road.
Picking up my converse I made my way to the door. “You won’t need those, I’ve got everything you need in here,” by now you’ve cracked the door open and I know better than to keep you waiting. “Pretty dress” voice matching your appreciative gaze as I skip down the steps barefoot, slide into the passenger seat next to you. The flimsy, floral material barely covers my ass. I know perfectly well the effect a glimpse of my soft flesh would have on you, and with your plans I’m dressed appropriately. For man and Moor. You’ve told me we’re off to the Moor for a short walk before lunch. Fine weather and a stroll, followed by a meal out…
A calm, quiet Sunday after the intensity of last weekend.
Slipping into gear we ease out of the drive, down the road and further along, into traffic. Your hand trails across my knee between gear changes. Your delicate touch eliciting a sigh, eruption of goose-bumps flooding my entire thigh.
Leaving town, climbing higher, the valleys peel back and immense skies stretch out overhead. Immediately my heart rate drops, calm restored following a full on week. Your hand makes its way higher as my body relaxes, specifically my legs. Rocking my pelvis I seek out your touch, pressure to my apex, maybe an errant finger will investigate my slutty hole. But no. You just chuckle, withdraw your hand and change gear again. We’re slowing now, having crested a hill you pull into a parking spot, and when I ask about my boots you point me to the boot. I hop out, push the door closed and make my way to the back.
But you ease the car away.
At first I think you’re just being silly, playful and a little bit mean. Making it difficult for me to get my boots so you can see me skip around in the gravel. But then your window opens and you lean out. While you scan my body a grin lights up your face. “I know I said ‘a short stroll’ but what I really meant was ‘a game of hide and seek’. Really the distance you cover is up to you,” your eyes drift down my body as a laugh catches in your throat, “and your feet, of course. I’m going to park down at Shipley Bridge, you have an hour from now. If you evade me for the whole hour, you decide what depravity we enjoy this afternoon. If not, you’re in my hands. Agreed?”
I nod, surprisingly relaxed considering I’m barefoot, scantily clad and about to head onto the Moor unaided. I’ll win this game, I know the area around the Avon Dam better than you, and have already started plotting a route. Hiding spots. And should you find me – which you won’t – you know my limits. I know how you like to amuse yourself with me.
The only shame will be in the not winning.
Sidling up to the car in the hopes of a kiss before you drive off, you pull back into the car. Moments later you present me with a little backpack. “In here are your watch and a phone. The phone’s switched off so I can’t track you, but once the timer on your watch sounds switch it on and call. I’ll come to you. If you need me sooner, call sooner. Oh, and your watch has incident detection so, should you take a tumble it will alert me. There’s a drink, map, snack and…” You withdraw again, grab something from the glove box, “and suncream” slipping it into the zip up bag. Pulling out my watch timer and yours, you set them both going, the clock is ticking. “See you soon young Lady.”
Then, with a flash of your devilish grin, you’re pulling away. Driving off down the hill smoothly, slowly and in control.
Seemingly not in any hurry…
I don’t need the map, progress will be slow and the area familiar. Bare feet aren’t conducive to fast running, especially given the little sheep track is bordered by Gorse. The dropped spikes make me tread very carefully, eking out a path slower than I’d like. The sums, all about the sums… the car park is about half a mile away – down the hill. Once you’re parked – which may not be easy given it’s the height of summer and the resident tea truck is on hand drawing families to this accessible spot on the moor – you’ve got to retrace your route back up the hill. I imagine I have a twenty minute head start and so am in no rush to shred my soles just yet.
The summer heat has made what’s left of the grass dry and crisp. What with the gorse my feet are constantly being prickled and tickled. Picking my way down the trail slowly gives me time to rub lotion wherever I can reach. Particularly the milky white flesh of my inner thighs. I gain confidence quickly though, relishing the sensations. My feet doing what they do and sending the more intense ouchies coursing through my nervous system, all the way up to my nipples and back down to my cunt.
With each step my need grows, and I curse you for your little game of hide and seek.
Perhaps it’s paranoia, that you’re hot on my heels. Or sounds catching on the breeze. Every so often though I think I hear someone behind me. A rustling in the long, golden Dartmoor grass. Probably a little critter, disturbed by my feet clattering past, or my gentle curses as each step brought me new masochistic delights.
I slip off the main path, onto a sheep track that could take me to a dead end, but there’s a clump of trees poking up from behind the brow of the next hill. That’s where I’m heading. I’ve sheltered before, in both hot, dry weather, and inclement winter wildness. I imagine it will taken me a further fifteen minutes to reach it, and I’m grateful for the fleece marked trail to provide a bit of cover in case you’re quicker than I hope. Crouching, I take a sip of water and check the timer. How has it been eighteen minutes already? You’ll be upon me soon!
Not convinced that I’m hidden enough, I drop to my hands and knees.
The flimsy fabric of my pretty dress gets snared immediately. Moving off I briefly wonder how you’re going to take me out for lunch anywhere nice, with my dress shredded! “Perhaps this isn’t the moment to be thinking about your stomach” I growl at myself, “you know full well that you won’t be happy if you lose.” And so I inch my way through the landscape, hopefully hidden from view. My hands and knees don’t enjoy this fresh torture, soon bloodied and sore unlike my feet who fed my desires with their need for pain. But my need to win was stronger than my desire to get off. And when I win, oh what deliciousness can I ask of you…
The going is slow, and with a number of wrong turns I arrive at the copse on the far side of the hill with seven minutes left on the timer. Not enough time to plan my reward. Instead I tuck myself away underneath the gnarly roots of the old trees, quivering with fear at the critters dwelling here. Keeping everything crossed I’ve not landed in a spiders web. That shriek would give me away really quickly!
I reach for the timer, four minutes and seventeen seconds left. Pulling out the snack next, a granola bar wrapped in tissue. I don’t realise how hungry I am until I’ve inhaled the bar. And with the tissue I can gently dab at my bleeding knees.
You really did think of everything when you decided we’d play hide and Seek.
Everything except finding me, of course.
Sipping from the bottle I watch the seconds tick by. At two minutes and thirty two seconds to go I hear a crunch. But I’m convinced it’s wildlife, and even if it is you, I’m well disguised in my secret spot. The roots hide me from sight, it won’t matter how hard you seek.
But there’s another crunch. Followed by a stick snapping. And deep breathing. Not quite recognisable, but not unfamiliar either.
Shrinking back in the gloom, trying to be as small and discrete as possible, I hate you a little bit when your beaming face appears between the roots. “Well, hello young lady”, you’re reaching out for my hand, helping me out of my hiding place as the timer rings.
Feeling seriously miffed at this point I try to laugh. “How did you find me?”
“All in good time my girl, all in good time…” I’m in your arms, melting into you, lips nuzzling against your neck as I inhale your scent. “You remember what my prize is?”
“Ha, of course I do. How could I forget…?” My sentence cut short by a finger to his lips as he pulls out his phone, sends a message. I can’t work out what you’re doing, but figure I’ve little choice other than to sit and wait for you to finish. But as I look up from your embrace I notice some shadows around the copse. Four, maybe five men move into view. All dressed in combat fatigues, with camo paint on their faces. Fuming now, my outrage sparks my eyes moments before my mouth spits the words.
“That’s not fair!”
“You know better than that young lady. Fairness has nothing to do with it! I was never going to lose this one. Not with your antics last weekend, prick tease that you are. Showing those poor men what a slut you might be, dancing soooo provocatively, commenting to me on what you thought was inside their trousers. What was it you said to me after I fucked you in front of the mirror that night? Something about wishing to be…”
“I wanted to be fucked in every hole by whoever you choose, wherever and whenever you want. For your entertainment, to make you ache for me, for you to reclaim my body afterwards. Take back what is yours from the men you chose to enjoy me.” Gulping, I look up into your eyes. “Here…? Now…? I’m all bloody and sweaty and… I’m pee stained. What if they want to lick me…?”
“You’re damn right this is happening now. As you said: whoever, wherever, whenever. You are my prize.” And with that you slipped a spandex hood over my head and whispered in my ear “traffic lights, I’m here.” You pushed me back into the mulch, chuckling quietly as you forced my legs wide before calling “come on then lads, timers on. Who wants first taste? She’s ready and waiting for you…”
How long have you set this new timer for? Where will you be while they do… whatever they do to me?
Feeling a smooth mouth at my hot, sweaty, pee tainted pussy I remind myself of the option for red. Knowing I’d be in for some serious punishment should I attempt to close my legs, I focus on keeping my knees wide. So intent am I on this I’m surprised to find fresh air in my lungs.
My hood is peeled back, mouth exposed, cock dripping precum pressing at my lips. One pair of hands hold the mask in place and keep the cock pressed to my lips while another set of hands – not yours – force my mouth into a wide O. These two work together to fuck my mouth in tandem, as the mouth works my clit and hands, so many hands, pinch and graze and knead my bare flesh. I don’t know how many men you had tracking me but they each find new ways of bringing me pleasure. They hide their shafts inside me, pull out, hide again; seek out my orgasms with rough fingers and energetic tongues, grinding their coarse, hairy bodies into my sensitive labia and swollen clit.
My body is fucked, licked, bitten, stroked and eventually covered in the seed of unknown strangers just as the alarm goes off behind me. “Alright lads”, I feel your arms around me once more, “times up. Have you enjoyed my girl?”
I float inside the mask, barely hear the affirmative responses.
My flimsy, tattered dress offering no protection from the lusty, if somewhat sated, men who’ve been making use of me. You thank them and send them on their way, before peeling the hood off entirely.
Finger swiping across my face, you tell me to “clean it”. Then you’re on me, in me, pawing at my breasts, forcing my legs apart. Your knee makes contact with my aching, swollen apex. “Ride it.” You rock your knee into me, there’s no confusion as to what you want but you tell me anyway, “get yourself off using just. My. Knee. Once you’re done I’m going to plough you, feel you spasm around me, pump you full of my seed.” I thought I was a long way off of further release but my eyes roll back as your words and and coarse leg hair penetrate my soul.
You retreat, the removal of your leg makes me needy, whiny. Though I don’t have to wait long for you to prise me open, fill me, fuck me. “Look at me” comes your command and I’m looking up into your eyes. I see the heat, the built up need within you spilling over. And then you’re overflowing, growling your release into the wilds, and I’m whimpering beneath you. Your hot spunk spilling as you withdraw.
It suddenly dawns on me that I have nothing to wear back to civilisation.
Turns out you really have thought of everything. As I lay quivering on the mulchy earth, feeling more naked than I remember, you pull a tee-shirt dress and my hiking boots from your pack. Tossing it to me you wink and ask “did you enjoy losing hide and seek today?”
As we walk back to the car, and a cup of tea from the truck, it dawns on me – maybe I should be a little prick tease more often… Twigs and leaves in my tangled hair, bloodied knees and crusty remnants of the others all over my face and body while yours leaks out of me and slicks the soft, milky white flesh of my inner thighs.
Hide and Seek: Don’t Get Discovered On Dartmoor was written for Erotic Fiction Deluxe. The prompt this week is Quivering., click the button above to see what everyone else is up to this week. And check out my Erotic Fiction Deluxe archive.
From the story of how the barefoot sub became the woman she is today, to toy reviews, with a hefty dose of contemplation, a sprinkling of erotica and a LOT of nudity in between, you can be sure to find something to tickle your fancy at A Leap Of Faith.